Leaving the Loveless Land
by jaqueline-littlebird
Summary: AU: Loki does not disrupt Thor's coronation. Instead he leaves, realizing that Asgard and his family won't ever appreciate him. If they all want the oaf on the throne, they can have him, and see how that works out.
1. Chapter 1

disclaimer: not mine, Marvel's; no money made

A/N: written for a prompt on Norsekink LJ

suggested music: 'Perfect Strangers' by Deep Purple

* * *

**Leaving the Loveless Land**

„Father, may I speak with you?"

Odin looked up from Bragi's draft for Thor's upcoming coronation feast. „Make it quick, then. I am busy."

„Oh." Loki looked disappointed, but gathered himself quickly and attempted to bow out. „Apologies. It's not a matter to discuss in haste, but then not that urgent either. Will you have some time after dinner, perhaps, to hear me out?"

The Allfather was growing a headache. Could the boy not for once come straight to the point? As if he didn't have enough to do already with the upcoming change in leadership. „Out with it, boy!" he growled.

Loki swallowed. „I'm sorry for disturbing you. If we could just a little later ..."

„Loki. Now. Speak!" Judging by how the boy squirmed, some prank had gone awry again.

„If my king insists." Loki straightened. „Father, please reconsider. Thor is not ready. He couldn't tell the annual grain harvest report from the magic dry cleaners' bill. All he thinks about are feasts and questing. He hasn't sat through any hearing for six months, and back then only because I told him Amora would attend. He ..."

„Silence!" Odin slammed his fist on the desk. His beard bristled. „Jealousy is unbecoming, Loki. The eldest son inherits, that has always been so, from the throne of Asgard to the lowliest farmstead. You've known this for centuries; spare me your complaints!"

„But, father, that is not what I meant. I don't want the throne! All I'm saying is Thor needs more time, at least a century or two. You can't crown him now – he would ruin the kingdom. You need to push him so that he'll really learn and pay attention to everything important!"

Odin could not believe what had become of his well-bred, polite adopted son, babbling now, grasping for his last chance at power. If possible, his resolve to install Thor securely on the throne soon strengthened. He and Frigga could calm Loki after that at leisure, planning a gainful marriage or scholarly career for the boy, whatever would sooth him. But now, the Allfather's time was scarce. „Loki? I won't listen to such nonsense. Now leave me; I have work to do."

„Father, one moment please? I could give you some examples to illustrate ..."

„Know your place, Loki." The boy looked close to tears. „Out! NOW!"

Loki fled.

* * *

„Do you swear to guard the nine realms?"

„I swear!"

„And do you swear to preserve the peace?"

„I swear!"

„Do you swear to cast aside your selfish ambition and to pledge yourself only to the good of the realms?"

„I swear!"

„Then on this day I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you king of Asgard. Let everyone step forth and swear fealty. All hail the king!"

The hall cheered.

Odin stepped down from the throne, handed Gungnir to Thor, pulled him up and hugged him. Then he handed his helmet to a servant and stepped aside whereas his son ascended. The Allfather – former, former allfather – beamed with pride. His eye swept to his younger son. First in line while Thor was childless, he was first to swear allegiance.

Instead, the lady Sif stepped forth and took the oath. What was that? They were not even betrothed.

To the former king's bewilderment, next came Volstagg, Fandral, and even Hogun who hailed from Vanaheim. Only then, Thor called for his own brother. By now, the court was muttering. The new king was publicly shaming his brother. The courtiers could expect a spectacle, and they were proven right.

Loki looked miserable when standing (not kneeling) before the throne, but gathered himself and spoke, his well-trained voice echoing through the hall. Only, it was not the oath.

„Thor Allfather, my brother. You are king of Asgard, but not my king. I've had it with you. This was one insult too many. From this day, you have all Asgard to make miserable, so you don't need me to push around any more. I refuse to obey your doubtlessly inane commands. On this day, I wash my hands of all the folly of this court. Let the fools who cheered you suffer under your reign, but I will not. Hereby I renounce my title as a prince. This is farewell, brother. I would wish you all the best if I didn't know it to be futile." He half-turned and walked up some of the stairs to embrace Frigga, who broke out in tears.

Volstagg's laughter bellowed. „Hahaa! Loki's latest silly prank!"

How dare the imbecile speak up before the king had spoken? 'Do something, Thor!' Odin willed his eldest. He couldn't bear to see Frigga crying.

Instead, Sif hissed: „Shut up, Volstagg, this is not funny! Can't you see the queen is crying? Loki never knew where to draw the line."

At the same time, Thor finally found his voice. „Know your place, brother!" he growled.

„My place is not as your doormat!" Loki shouted, letting go of Frigga, stalking angrily towards the throne.

„Kneel and swear now, or I'll make you." Thor rose and shouted. Electricity buzzed around Mjölnir. „Stop being difficult! And stop ruining my great day!"

„Difficult, am I? Oh yes, I'm aways difficult: when I delay your departure for some quest, because I need to find a map or pack provisions, which _true_ _warriors_ of course don't need? When I insist we can't ride out before the monthly petitions have been heard, or the tax refunds are taken care of? You never listen to a word of reason. Remember when we attended lord Thrym's wedding? You would not wear furs because _Jotunheim's cold can't harm the_ _mighty Thor_. Had not the lady of the house given you her wedding dress, you would have frozen to your death. But **_I_** am difficult?"

So that was how Thor had come by a Jotun wedding garment and some frostbite? So far, Odin had assumed some silly stag night prank, probably Loki's idea. He'd never known his son had been in mortal danger.

King Thor was unfazed. „Trifles, Loki. Housewives' concerns, like your magic. Swear now!"

„My magic was good enough for you when I re-attached your foot last month! And you wouldn't even have lost it in the first place had you checked the ground for traps as I instructed, like any other dimwit would when trying to arrest a smith called 'Beartrap-Brokkr'!"

Thor laughed it off. „Stop boasting with your little tricks. A healing stone would have sufficed well."

„But you didn't pack one, stupid!" Loki screeched.

„Don't call me stupid or I'll throw you in the dungeons! I should do that anyway for this scene."

„If you think so you are worse than stupid, you're a tyrant. By the laws of Asgard, and the precedents set by uncles Vé and Vili, no-one can be forced to swear fealty. And as long as I am not sworn in, all you can do is throw me out or challenge me to holmgang. You have no jurisdiction over me. A fine king you are, Thor Law-Throttler."

No! The boy invoking Odin's brothers' deeds? The three of them had been young, cross and foolish when their father died. Thor, don't make the same mistake!

„Harrrgr! Leave then! Dou you hear me? You are banished. Banished from my hall and all of Asgard. Guards, throw him out!" Thor, in his barely contained rage, slammed Mjölnir down on the throne's armrest, breaking it off. A shockwave ran through the hall, all the assembled warriors and nobles gasping.

Frigga carefully approached Thor, and even Sif was sidling closer from the other side, whispering words of caution. Guards approached tentativley.

Loki stalled them with a gesture. „Don't bother, I'll go willingly. King Thor." He gave a curt nod, not a bow. „It may have escaped your notice, but by banning me from your hall you also renounced me as family. Or maybe that was your intention. As if I'd care. Bye-bye, not-brother. I shall be _Loki_ _Skywalker_ henceforth."

While speaking, Loki shed all insignia of his princely status, dropping them to the floor: horned helmet, gold-embroidered clothing, even the sword he so rarely wore, which Odin had given him on his manhood ceremony. The old god knew he should intervene, but was rooted to the spot. Thor had destroyed his own throne and their family. Was that what the boy had wanted to tell him days ago? Was Loki gifted with the sight now?

The god of mischief glanced at Frigga one last time, apologetically. His father's gaze he avoided. Then with a handwave, Loki opened a shimmering portal in the air right where he stood, stepped through it and was gone. Asgard's former prince left with nothing more than boots, leather pants and undershirt. The portal collapsed behind him with a quiet _'fupp'_ and some green smoke.

Odin's legs gave out; guards rushed to support him. A skywalker! A true skywalker who did not even need dark energy to phase into the world tree's branches. Old Mimir, Odin's magics teacher, had proposed a theory this should be possible, but it hadn't yet been done. Had Loki somehow dechiphered the late wizard's cryptic runes?

Only dimly in the background did the old god hear the uproar in the hall – right they were – and Frigga trying to calm Thor, urging him to restore order and get on with the ceremony. Then the leaden weight of sleep crushed down on him.


	2. Chapter 2

When Odin woke, days later, Frigga filled him in on the news.

The guards and warriors had sworn to Thor, but many of the nobles not, either stating that their fealty was to Odin still, or demanding detailed individual treaties laying down all rights and duties. Since the commoners were represented by their respective fiefdom lords, that meant half or so of Asgard's population were not under Thor's rule currently.

A matching part of the army had dissembled as a consequence, drafted men returning to their families' farms or seeking employment elsewhere. An upsurge of robbery was to be expected. That always happened with a lot of young men on the loose.

Worse yet, while negotiating with some of the recalcitrant lords (who claimed they couldn't quite see why they should pay taxes to a king who spent his time hunting dragons on other realms), their eldest had cancelled the reception for the crafting guilds' representatives. A grave insult. Even commoners could be petty about such slights.

„The bakers refuse to deliver to the palace for the time being." said Frigga, feeding her still bedridden husband lukewarm porridge. He made a face and pushed the bowl away. „The weaponsmiths swore and are working on all orders, we are their major customer after all." Frigga continued, offering another spoonfull of the dreadful concoction. „But most of the sorcerers and witches are on strike, most noticeably the keepers of the mead goats and resurrectable animals, the telecommunication illusionists, and the magic dry cleaners."

„Is that so?" ('Keep talking, Odin, anything to stall this breakfast.')

„I'm afraid yes. Apparently, Loki was honorary member with the witches, and the milkmaids too – even I didn't know that; must have been from the time he was so infatuated with Freya he worked for her brother. Well, in any case, he had several godchildren whom he sponsored in the lower ranking guilds. Thor called them a bunch of trolls and Loki their mother when they came complaining. We've been out of meat, bread and mead for days now. No milk or butter either, I am sad to say. That's why Fulla cooked the porridge with plain water. So would you please just eat, dear, without making a fuss, because we don't have that many clean shirts any more? I fear I gave the boys' old bibs to Volstagg some time ago. Thanks."

Drat. The wise god gave in and swallowed.

* * *

The former king refused to see his successor before fully recovered. When he finally felt well enough, he entered an empty hall. Or functionally empty, anyway. A lone Dwarf was working on the ruined throne, filing and measuring, superficially guarded by a few Einherjar. The guards stood at attention when seeing their former king approach (in his second-best presentable robe, reasonably clean and only once slept in).

„Lord Ivaldi, well met!" Odin boomed. „How kind of you to help us here. So good to see you. It has been a while, hasn't it? Are your sons well? Please let me welcome you to Asgard's halls anew!"

The old Dwarf rose and dusted off his hands. Standing, he nearly reached Odin's shoulder. Long beard aside, he still strongly resembled his daughter, who had married to Asgard and was one of their most powerful goddesses now – same broad built, chubby cheeks and snub-nose. Golden teeth gleamed when he smiled.

„Thank you, but please don't go out of your way for me. The queen already welcomed me most courtly. If you don't mind, I'll get on with my work. I'd like to be done before dinner. Idun is baking apple pie as we speak." Not waiting for a reply, the crafsman turned back to the throne. Dwarves were like that.

At the thought of apple pie, Odin's mouth watered. He swallowed. „Let me thank you then, in the name of Asgard, that you came to our aid so swiftly. I'm sure my son, king Thor, will host the feast that you deserve as soon as can be done. You must bring all your family and retinue."

„Ah yes," Ivaldi replied over scraping and chiselling, „the king asked me to pass you his regards. He's off to Midgard or somewhere, I think, with half the treasury to purchase wines and delicacies for the feast he'll entertain the Vanir with. We Dvergar of course come later."

By the Norns, what a blunder. Of course Asgard always received the delegates from Vanaheim first, long-standing allies that they were, but telling the magic craftsman who repaired your throne that he did not merit entertainment? Ivaldi would forgive the slight; he loved his work and his daughter and would want the kingdom Idun lived in working well. To which Odin would see these next days.

But first: Heimdall.

* * *

„The king is in the town of Oslo, Midgard. The Bifröst touched down near Tønsberg as usual, but to his majesty's dismay, the only shop there selling wine, called Vinmonopolet, was closed for inventory. Thor, with Sif and the Warriors Three, then made his way to Oslo, where they traded gold rings and vibranium ingots in a pawn shop for local currency. They spent the night in an inn called Grand Hotel since the Vinmonopolet stores were already closed for the evening. The local lord, one Harald Olavsson, did not receive them; or rather, his underlings mistook the king of Asgard for a jester and refused to admit him. Thor graciously decided not to call down lightning on those mortals since they are still under our protection. Sif reminded him of that."

Odin blanched during the gatekeeper's monologue. How could that be? Had Thor not conducted many diplomatic missions in the past, talking many a dignitary into favourable treaties? „And what of Loki? How fares he?"

„The liesmith has long learned to evade my gaze."

What? Impossible. Or if that was true, why had Heimdall not reported earlier?

„No major chaos has broken out anywhere, so he might as well have gone lost between the branches." the guardian said, slight glee leaking into his stoic face. „Should I spot him, I will let you know if that's your wish."

Of course it was Odin's wish! What father wouldn't want to know where his son was? He said so. The gatekeeper's answer was unexpected.

„Worry not, your highness. Was this not the perfect opportunity to rid the realm of the Jotun runt, now that he turned out worthless for your plan, since Laufey bore another heir? Too clever for his own good he has always been, a threat to lord Thor's throne. Asgard is a better place without him."

For millennia, Odin Allfather had trusted Heimdall's judgement. That evening, he sent Hugin and Munin out to catch up on developments and look for Loki.

* * *

A few days later, the former king returned to the citadel from negotiations with some country nobles. He was patting himself on the shoulders, figuratively, for talking one of them around to swear to Thor, just for the sake of continuitiy. The other would at least send fresh vegetables to the town markets once more, not charging extra for cross-border trade.

When Odin entered the hall (not his hall any longer, he reminded himself), he nearly stumbled over a wine bottle. The old god bent down with some difficulty and picked up the offending item. _Château Lafite Rothschild_, the label stated in one of Midgard's sets of runes. The thing was uncorked and empty. So Thor had returned, but not sent to let his father know. Odin's mood soured.

He waved one of the servants over who were listlessly trying to clean the floor and tables without the aid of magic, mostly just smearing some grime around. The man was only too happy to drop his mop and instead answer his former king. „My lord! Welcome back to the citadel!" he bowed.

„Guðmund, tell me, what happened in my absence? Who feasted here, and where is everyone?"

„My lord, the guests from Vanaheim arrived, save for the royal couple and the princess."

Of course. King Njörd had not been seen outside his own realm since his second marriage. He held some grudge towards Thor, ever since the young man, while on a monster hunting quest, had accidentally hooked and nearly killed his pet snake.

„King Thor treated them to wine, mylord, but we are still out of food worthy of the high table." the servant carried on. „When the requests for food grew louder, lord Freyr graciously invited his countrymen over to his own house, and the king and company went with them."

Odin resisted the urge to facepalm. Well, Freyr was generous and loyal, so no harm should come of it. Ever since moving to Asgard (running away from an arranged marriage to Alfheim, according to the rumours), the god of farming had been an advocate of peace and stability in the councils. So unlike Hogun the Grim, his cousin, who would probably inherit the Vanir throne. A warrior to keep an eye on, that one was; thankfully Asgard-raised and a good friend to Thor.

„Erm, and lord Freyr sat on Hliðskjálf, sire." the servant mumbled. „The dwarf ..."

„Lord Ivaldi." Odin interrupted him sternly.

The man cringed. „Apologies, sire. Lord Ivaldi repaired it. He returned to Dwarfheim … Nidavellir, and sends his regards. We didn't know where you had gone to, sire, so king Thor tried to use the throne to look for you and send message about the feast, but had some difficulties with the magic vision. He said ..."

„What did he say?"

„He said, sire, that a warrior like him can't be expected to know how magic items work."

But … but … decades of tuition? Hadn't Thor passed all the tests? Vaguely, Odin recalled Frigga telling him some famous and horribly expensive teaching witch (Karnilla?) had quit because of one of Loki's little pranks – when he'd written an exam in Thor's guise. But that had been long ago. Before the old god could ponder more, Hugin and Munin returned, cawing. He dismissed the servant and listened to their report.

They had searched Alfheim, where they knew '_magpie fledgeling_' rented a tree-house in Myrddin's academy of magic, but he wasn't there. Nidavellir they had briefly passed, Nornheim and even Midgard, before thoroughly searching caves and crevices all across Jotunheim, to no avail. From there, they had now returned to report they had seen Skirnir, Freyr's right-hand man, at the mountain cottage of one Gymir the Bellower, asking for his ice maiden daughter's hand in marriage on Freyr's behalf.

Oh dear, a Jotun in Asgard. The girl would be friendless and miserable, everyone knowing of her heritage, even if she was a shapeshifter like many of the small-born Jötnar were. (Good thing no-one but Heimdall knew Loki was adopted.) Unless perhaps Freyr was planning to reconcile with his father and move back to Vanaheim, where Frost Giants were held in more regard – particularly since king Njörd had married one, queen Skaði: once an orphan, now goddess of skiing.

On a whim, the former Allfather sat on his former throne. The magic thrummed. Good as new.

He resisted the urge to look into Freyr's mansion where Thor was likely sleeping off last night's mead, along with all the court and company. (Freyr, of course, had his own mead goats, ale sheep, fields and whatnot, so no shortage.) Such was the way of young men, sometimes overdoing it, but never was it a pretty sight.

Instead, the one-eyed god turned his magic gaze to Vanaheim, starting with the palace. Where he found the royal couple and their daughter, princess Sigyn (grown now and an exotic beauty: sky blue skin, dark slanted eyes, black hair swept up into a bun with mother of pearl combs and hairpins). They were sitting in an inner courtyard, artfully planted with blossoming vines and tiny potted trees, talking to thin air.

Just as Odin was watching, the princess poked something invisible, giggling. The air blurred, revealing Loki – cyan blue, red-eyed, Jotun markings on his hands and face, wearing a black scholar's robe. Queen Skaði – in her Jotun form as well – said something apparently encouraging, and Loki looked up from his hands, to smile timidly at the princess.

She beamed at him and filled him a cup of tea, chilling it by magic in her hand until it formed a star motive ice crust. He answered with illusionary butterflies.

The old god turned the magic vision off and rose. He had some urgent good news to tell Frigga.

* * *

**A/N:** End of story. I'll leave you readers with this hopeful outlook rather than try to write tedious centuries-long Odin self-reflection of flawed parenting, and family reconciliation.

Njörd is the god of the sea in myth, so I took the liberty of attributing that giant water snake Thor so loves to fight to him in this fic. Since Marvel!Vanir seem to look Asian like Hogun (who should belong to the nobility, or he wouldn't hang out with Thor), Njörd should too, I thought.

And yes, Loki wrote all or most of Thor's exams on magic or other complicated topics, glamoured as Thor.


End file.
